I Remember That Night All Too Well
by PajamaLinds
Summary: The death of a Turk. A first-person view on losing a comrade. *fixed up*


**_I Remember That Night All Too Well_**  
by Pajama-Linds,  
formerly known as Ashirah Chiso,  
formerly known as Sephirah...  
  
AN: A story that I started some time ago, then rediscovered in the back of my writings folder. I read what I had, and was put in a mood to finish and fix it. Well, anyways, I'll shush now and let you read.  
  
~*~  
  
Rain water seeped into my already wet hair, blending in with the tears that fell from my eyes. I couldn't help it, even though I felt foolish. I'm not one to let people see me cry or show any weakness in that case, but today was the exception.  
  
Elena was gone. No matter how hard I told myself that she was gone, the more I wanted to doubt it, and more tears fell from my eyes.  
  
I moved forward under the tent, and out of the rain, to get a glimpse of her still, gray form in the casket, to say something in her memory, but the words would not form clearly. I could only think of one thing: Why her? Why not me first? Me, the crazy, drunk-twenty-four-seven, outgoing guy... compared to the controlled, always do your best, don't ever give up personality. Why couldn't've it been me? It _should've_ been me. _You were the sober one... no, you were the _responsible_ one that night.  
_  
I glanced at my best friend Rude. A tear, a single tear, made its way down from under his dark sunglasses and onto the sling on his arm. I usually saw him as emotionless and unpitying, but that tear showed that he cared. I surpressed a smile; after all these years of seeming emotionless about everything, it was amazing to see how one simple tear could change the appearance of a man. Just one tear. I didn't blame him, though. Elena would be missed. Her personality, her laugh, her way of trying to show that she knew what she was doing when she really didn't... everything about her was etched into my mind. Now she was only a memory.  
  
I missed her already.  
  
I remember that night all too well.  
  
It was raining, heavier than today, and it was late. Very late. The scumbags that roamed the streets came out at this hour, so it was dangerous for people to be out alone. Elena, being the most sober one, told us that we should head back to headquarters, due to the hour and we had a mission coming up the next day. Whether she was actually worried or not, I don't remember. I must've been a bit too drunk to notice.  
  
I joked around with her a bit, obviously avoiding the subject of the mission. "You worried that somethin's gonna attack us? Three armed Turks against one bum? What are the odds that we'd get attacked?" Maybe it was the alcohol that was affecting my sense of judgment, or the desire to seem tougher than I actually was, or even because that I was an idiot to begin with... whatever the reason, I was feeling overconfident. No one would dare to step in our way that night.  
  
Man. Was I wrong.  
  
Elena somehow fell behind Rude and I. We didn't seemed to notice too much, for we walked at our normal, after-drinking walk. She seemed to be hiding in the shadows behind us for some reason, or maybe we were not paying attention, too caught up in our own ideas... until we heard her scream.  
  
Some guy in the shadows had her cornered against a wall, her gun in his hand. Startled, I screamed jibberish, trying to scare him into running away. It failed to work, however, and the guy swung the gun, _Elena's_ gun, around to point it at Rude. Thanks to those damned sunglasses that he always wore, he couldn't see it well enough to avoid the attack.  
  
The first, well-aimed shot lit up the darkness, sounding like a crack of a whip. It made my head pound. The bullet caught Rude in the arm, blood quickly seeping through his dark jacket. He stumbled, but he, being the tough Turk he was, kept moving.  
  
Elena took this time to make a dive at the attacker. Like how she was trained, she launched a kick to disable the attacker, towards his midsection. I ran around behind him and tried to knock the gun out of his hand, but the bastard had been too quick.  
  
A blur of well-planned movement.  
  
Elena was thrown violently to the wet ground with a grunt of pain. The aggressor backhanded me, giving me a new mark below the old one on my left cheek and a set of stars to admire in front of my eyes. I realized... that he knew our movements. He knew what we could do. He was trained like us. Who...?  
  
Breaking out of my daze, I saw Rude fall as another bullet entered through his arm. Elena rolled onto her back to attempt to get up, but the attacker... he...  
  
He shot her. Then and there. Merciless as can be. Right through the heart. She tried taking in air for the last time, only to cause a deathly groan from her chest. Her eyes still open in wonder. Her arm fell to her chest, then down to the ground. Rain fell continuously on her still form. The world stopped moving for that instant. Nothing would connect in my head. I couldn't register the images of Elena and Rude laying on the ground as silent rain fell. "No..." I uttered after some time. I felt the blood from my wound wash down my face, mixing with rain, and quite possibly tears.  
  
The assailant dropped the gun, realizing the limited bullets had been spent on my comrades. He gave a quiet chuckle before running off, long tattered hair and face covering leaving a impact in my mind.  
  
Rude had struggled to his feet, grunting, "I'm fine. I'm fine." I ran to Elena. Crouching by her side, once brief glance told me that she was dead. Everything became a faded memory. Disbelief spread through me. Tears ran down my face.  
  
As they are now.  
  
I stepped away from her casket. Rude came over to me and put a heavy hand on my shoulder and muttered, "Elena..." in his trademark quiet, emotionless manner. Maybe that time, I heard sadness in his voice.  
  
I used my sleeve to wipe more tears, when I caught a glance of one solitary man in the corner. His telltale tattered hair and facial covering brought the nightmare back to my mind. A former Turk. A man seeking revenge on the Shin-Ra.  
  
Vincent Valentine.  
  
I stared at him as Rude guided me out. He watched me from behind his mask, eyes taunting me, following my every step. He mocked me. He was grinning behind his mask. He wanted to challenge me.  
  
I could have taken him out at that moment. I could have brought revenge to Elena's murderer. I could have settled this now and let Elena rest in peace.  
  
No.  
  
I couldn't bring myself to draw my gun on him. I had lost one of my best friends. I couldn't bear it. The effects of death could change a man, as it did me for that moment. Now I know how it feels to loose someone close. Of all the lives we shattered.  
  
I would let him live.

  
~*~


End file.
